


Secrets, Secrets are No Fun

by Curator



Series: Secret Agent Man [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Caretaker, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, Episode: s04e15 Hunters, Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), Pre-Canon, Section 31, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: Kathryn Janeway took a chance offering a Maquis captain the first officer position on her starship. What she didn’t know is the “Maquis captain” actually works for Section 31, Starfleet’s top-secret spy organization. When will Janeway find out Chakotay’s secret? What will happen when she does? How does love complicate … everything?





	1. Before the Mission to the Badlands

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to two betas, cnroth and MiaCooper, who looked at an early version of this story and gave incredibly helpful advice, including structure and characterization concerns. This story is orders of magnitude better because of them. (Anything you don’t like, blame me.)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Chapter 1 note for Voyager fans unfamiliar with the Admiral William Ross character from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine — he secretly knows about, sympathizes with, and helps Section 31.

“Captain Janeway.” Admiral William Ross stood as she entered his office. “It’s a pleasure to give you your inaugural mission on _Voyager_.”

The energetic, young captain grinned as she took the padd the admiral handed her from his side of the desk. 

“The pleasure is mine, Admiral.”

Kathryn Janeway could feel Admiral Ross watching her skim the information. Everything seemed to be in order. She looked up from the padd.

“As you know,” the admiral sat and motioned for Kathryn to do the same, “we have reason to believe the Maquis ship where Lieutenant Tuvok was conducting surveillance has been disabled somewhere in the Badlands. Your official mission, as detailed on your orders, is to retrieve Mr. Tuvok.”

Kathryn sat stiffly, not quite at attention but not quite at ease. The mission outline tracked the admiral’s verbal summary. 

But something was off. 

“My ‘official mission,’ sir?”

Admiral Ross leaned back in his chair and dictated a series of letters and numbers for Kathryn to enter into the padd. She did as the admiral instructed — and a different mission, outlined in black, appeared on the screen. Scrolling, Kathryn saw images, data, reports.

“What you’re looking at is every piece of information we have about members of the Maquis crew, as well as their ship and its capabilities,” Admiral Ross explained. “_Voyager_ should be able to knock out the _Val Jean’s_ weapons fairly easily and that might seem like the simpler option, but psychological warfare may be faster. Try to invite the Maquis captain onto your ship without engaging the rest of his crew or damaging his vessel.”

This was not standard procedure.

“Sir,” she held up the padd, “where did this information come from? Tuvok hasn’t reported in since he went undercover.”

Admiral Ross stood, so Kathryn scrambled to her feet. 

“That’s not your concern, _Captain_.” The admiral’s fingertips formed hard triangles on his desk and his voice became dangerously low. “Does this mission need to be reassigned?”

“No, sir.” 

Kathryn flexed her neck just enough to feel the weight of the fourth pip on her collar. She was used to Admiral Paris, who invited questions and challenges, and Admiral Patterson, who brought a teasing twinkle to his work. Surely she could work with this serious, guarded admiral, too.

“Good.” Admiral Ross stood up straight. “And in case it’s not perfectly clear, your official mission to retrieve Tuvok is secondary to your unofficial mission: remove the Maquis captain from his ship. Diplomacy first, but, if your back is against the wall, do what you have to do.”

Despite her desire to impress Admiral Ross, Kathryn couldn’t help but tilt her head, questioning his meaning.

The admiral spoke in clipped tones, his face hard. 

“Consider yourself cleared to sacrifice anything and anyone, conscript any personnel, and engage any resource to be able to bring the Maquis captain back alive. And in case it’s not abundantly clear from your mission outline, _Captain_, you are hereby ordered to keep this confidential.”

“Yes, sir.” Kathryn gave Admiral Ross a crisp nod.

She had taken part in confidential work before, but never directed it. Kathryn realized this mission was her chance to show Admiral Ross — and everyone else at headquarters — what she could do. Kathryn could feel it in her bones: she’d get the Maquis captain and Tuvok back to Starfleet in record time. No problem.

***

Seventy thousand light years away, deep in the Caretaker’s array, a needle pierced “Chakotay’s” stomach and he screamed.


	2. Caretaker

“It seems you’re a man of mystery, Mr. Chakotay.”

Kathryn turned her ready room computer so the man who claimed to be a Maquis captain could see the display. It was his Starfleet service record.

“No mysteries there.” Chakotay leaned slightly forward in his seat to skim the information. “Everything looks correct.”

He didn’t question how she had his file, though Kathryn had been ready to lie and say Tuvok had sent Starfleet the names of all Maquis on the _Val Jean_. 

From her desk chair, Kathryn sized up Chakotay. Quiet confidence, definitely. But her instincts told her there was something deeper within him. Could it be anger over what happened to his homeworld? Or perhaps devotion to his cause? This meeting should help her understand. Kathryn wouldn’t let herself be distracted by his broad chest and full lips. The dossier within her confidential orders detailed the significance of his tattoo, though the bold lines seemed more nuanced and elegant in person. Chakotay sat with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, the picture of calm. If her idea was going to work, though, she needed to rattle him enough to start talking. His service record was a place to start. 

Kathryn turned the computer so she could see the display.

“You entered the academy at age 15,” she read from the screen. “You served with distinction on numerous starships and even became an instructor in Starfleet's Advanced Tactical Training program.” Kathryn pushed the computer aside and looked at Chakotay. “So why did you walk away?”

“My father was killed defending my home world,” Chakotay replied evenly, meeting her gaze. “I couldn’t let the Cardassians displace my people.”

Frustration burned at her ribcage, but if he was going to project serenity, damnit, she would, too.

“You knew as a tactician the Maquis had no way to win that fight. And yet, your records indicate you gave up everything to join a cause you knew was lost.” She shook her head slightly. “I need to know what’s really going on here.”

Chakotay folded his hands on his lap.

“We’re 70,000 light years from home,” he said. “Do you intend to throw me in the brig because you don’t think my life story fits what you might have done in my place?”

“No,” she replied. “I intend to ask you to be my first officer.”

Chakotay’s face went slack with surprise. 

Finally — an unguarded reaction! Kathryn suppressed a smirk at her victory.

“I want members of the Maquis to join us on _Voyager_,” she explained. “To do that successfully, I need someone who understands every person on this ship, Starfleet and Maquis alike, and can help them coalesce into one crew, a Starfleet crew. I saw what you did on the bridge right before I gave the order to blow up the array. You respect my captaincy. Based on your service record, I think you would make a fine XO. But first I have to know what you’re hiding.”

Kathryn watched Chakotay consider her offer. 

She expected Chakotay to accept. Decline. Ask questions.

He didn’t do any of those things.

“Computer.” Chakotay stood. “Match voice print, authorization gamma alpha.”

A male computer voice responded, “Voice print recognized.”

Kathryn leapt to her feet, heart pounding, and pulled a phaser from her desk drawer. She had never heard a non-standard computer voice from any Starfleet ship.

“Code black delta,” Chakotay told the computer. “Sixty seconds.”

What the hell was code black delta?

Kathryn felt the phaser go dead in her hands as everything in the ready room lost power. By the light of the stars, Kathryn saw Chakotay step toward her. She hit her commbadge.

“Janeway to security!”

“You know that won’t work.” Chakotay’s voice was low. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Kathryn saw Chakotay’s hands open in front of him as he moved slowly toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to listen and listen quickly.”

She gave a quick nod. “Go.” Her hands stayed tight on her phaser. She could use it as a blunt object, even if it couldn’t fire.

“I know it may seem frustrating but, for everyone’s safety, you can’t search for answers and I can’t provide them. That’s all I can tell you — and I wouldn’t even tell you that if we were in the Alpha Quadrant.” Chakotay arrived at Kathryn’s side of the desk. “I respect the chain of command. You know that. I’ll follow your orders.”

She pushed her shoulders back. “What gives you the authority to advise me to allow this deception on my ship?”

Chakotay spoke in a tone Kathryn was sure he had calibrated to sound soothing. It was working, though — her heart rate was slowing and her grip on the phaser had loosened.

“We’re all out of contact with the structures we depend on. You need to trust me, and my voiceprint authorization to a Starfleet ship should prove it.” He was a few centimeters away from her and still moving closer. “We share the same goals.”

“How do I know you didn’t reprogram the computer?” Kathryn kept her boots planted, refusing to cede her place of authority despite their proximity. 

“Because I’m not that good with machines.” Chakotay stopped walking. “I’m good with people. You need that out here. Plus, you know as well as I do, your orders were to bring me back alive.”

Kathryn’s eyes widened and she nearly dropped her phaser. “How the hell do you know that?”

Power returned to the ready room. 

Kathryn blinked in the restored light. 

Chakotay didn’t.

“I appreciate your offer, Captain Janeway.” He took a respectful step backward, his expression unreadable. “It’s commendable of you to consider me, as the leader of a group of Maquis, to be your first officer.”

Her glare hid her unease. Kathryn understood what Chakotay wasn’t saying — anything discussed during this “code black delta” shouldn’t be recognized once the lights returned. But, given his service record, the loyalty the Maquis crew held for him, and some sort of continuing association with Starfleet, he was her best choice to help lead the ship.

He knew it, too, she could tell.

“Let me clarify something, Mr. Chakotay.” She motioned for him to move to the other side of her desk. Once he did, she continued. “Should you accept the XO position, you are accountable to me and to the entire _Voyager_ crew every moment of our journey. When we get home, you can do what you like.” She put her phaser back in its drawer. The power indicator once again registered a full charge. “Until then, can I count on your unqualified support?”

“You can, and I accept your offer.”

She held out her hand. “Then welcome aboard, Commander Chakotay.”

“Thank you, Captain Janeway. It’s an honor to be your first officer.”

They shook hands.

***

When he crashed the _Val Jean _into the Caretaker’s array, “Chakotay” lost everything but the clothes on his back, the medicine bundle strapped to his waist, and the computer codes he’d memorized years before. 

But he was too well-trained to let anything distract him from his mission — the primary one or the secondary one. 

After he accepted the first officer position, Chakotay returned to his guest quarters and unrolled the leather-wrapped medicine bundle. The “blackbird's wing” retained enough venom to kill a moderately-sized human, but was spoiling quickly. The “river stone” still functioned as a homing beacon, so he boosted the signal. He raised the “akoonah” to his lips and pushed the record button. 

“I’m gaining her trust,” he murmured. “I don’t think the scenic route through the galaxy was part of the plan, but, whenever someone does hear this, know one thing: I’ll get the job done. I always do.”


	3. Resolutions

“Is that really an ancient legend?”

“No, but it made it easier to say.”

They threaded their fingers together. Her blood rushed into places no man had touched since Mark. Kathryn silently thanked the EMH for pestering her to keep her contraceptive booster up to date for the last two years.

There was just one thing….

“So,” she said, “what’s the secret you’ve been hiding all this time?”

Chakotay’s face clouded. He inclined his head toward the shelter door. They stood and stepped into the chilly night. His hand was warm in hers as he led her around fallen tree limbs from the plasma storm. As they walked deeper into the forest, she stroked his hand with her thumb.

Then, she noticed he was counting.

“What are you doing?”

“The structure and shuttle are Starfleet issue,” Chakotay’s breath was visible in the cold air, “and our commbadges are still active. Turning them off wouldn’t matter, anyway.”

Kathryn held his hand more tightly. 

He was going to trust her. 

Her body tingled.

Half a kilometer away, storm damage wasn’t as severe. Kathryn let her eyes stray from their path. The moonlight dusted a faint blue across the contours of Chakotay’s face. If she brushed his cheek with her fingers, she was certain she would feel satin. 

Kathryn didn’t want to walk, she wanted to learn his secret and then touch: to push him down, to have him under her, in her, around her.

Chakotay stared straight ahead. “Keep walking.”

Two kilometers away, he said they were out of range of the Starfleet equipment.

“I love you,” he said, pulling her close. 

He smelled like the beach and burnt timber. His breath and then his lips were on her neck. His hands held her hips against his body but she pressed even closer, a moan escaping as her fingers explored the satin of his cheeks, the curl of his ears, the softness of his hair. Her legs were starting to shake. It had been so long and he was holding her, breathing eager sounds against her skin.

But he hadn’t answered her question.

Two years before, after what happened in her ready room, Kathryn had accessed _Voyager’s_ security logs. The time during code black delta showed uninteresting conversation, not what actually happened. Yet the Starfleet verification code remained. Based on that and Tuvok’s report from his time on the _Val Jean_, Kathryn decided then that Chakotay must work for Starfleet Intelligence. Walking away from the Starfleet equipment on New Earth solidified her hypothesis. 

So why wouldn’t he just say it? 

Kathryn was tugging at Chakotay’s earlobe with her teeth, so she repeated herself in a whisper. “What’s … your ... secret?”

“I realize … you want me to tell you everything … but I can’t.” His hands were on her rear end, her back, her waist. He turned his head to kiss her neck again. “I need to protect you … for your own good.”

She stiffened. 

Took a step backwards. 

Pulled cold air in through her nose and let it out through her mouth. 

Nobody had the right to “protect” Kathryn Janeway from anything. She fought her own battles.

“Why the hell did you bring me out here if you’re not going to tell me the truth?” Kathryn crossed her arms.

Chakotay stepped forward. He ran a finger along her jawline, his voice soft and pleading. 

“I brought you out here to tell you I love you. I brought you out here to make it clear that keeping you safe is important to me.” His finger moved to rest on her lips. “You know everything you need to know and we can’t talk about it any more than this, even at the shelter. Can you accept that? Can you love me even if there are things from my past I can’t bring into our present?”

Tears pricked at her eyes and she turned away.

Over the last two years, Kathryn had trusted Chakotay. But he didn’t trust her and he was proving it. Her legs weren’t shaking with want anymore, but her hands were beginning to curl in anger. His secret wasn’t a matter of classified information — it was deeper, more complex, and she somehow knew it all connected to Starfleet and the Maquis and _Voyager _and the Alpha Quadrant.

But she wasn’t in the Alpha Quadrant and Chakotay’s hands were on her hips again. He turned her and she swiveled, furious with herself both for moving like a goddamn marionette and for being so receptive to his touch despite everything he had said. His lips were on hers now and she was responding. Her tongue slid over his and a moan escaped her throat as one of his hands stroked her breast.

Still, her brain had re-engaged and she couldn’t stop it.

Kathryn told herself she would be on New Earth for the rest of her life. Maquis, _Voyager_, Starfleet, Tuvok, Admiral Ross — they had become ephemeral, while this loving, giving man was tactile and warm. She trembled, breathing faster, pulling him closer.

Chakotay broke their kiss. “Please,” he said, his eyes dark, his fingers on the button of her nightgown.

The cold air hit her face, stinging her wet lips.

If none of those people or things mattered anymore, then why did Chakotay bring her into the forest instead of telling her everything and then making love to her inside the shelter? What was stopping him, even now? 

Her fingers closed around his.

“No,” she said. “I’ll be your friend. I’ll be your best friend. I’ll trust you with discussion, with ideas, with advice. But, until you tell me what your secret is, I won’t trust you with me.”

***

It may have started as a mission, but he had, indeed, fallen in love with her. She was fierce, yet principled, wild, yet tender. “Chakotay” had been out of touch with headquarters for nearly two years and Kathryn Janeway had become what he always needed in his life: a strong leader, a guiding set of values. 

But, if they ever left this planet and made it home — and he had seen less likely things happen — then telling her anything, much less everything, would endanger her life. 

Chakotay couldn’t take that chance. 

He worked for the Federation’s autonomous, top-secret security organization, Section 31. People used words like “rogue” and “heartless” to describe Section 31, but Chakotay knew the agency took care of its own. His superiors had access to fifth-generation spore drive, capable of sending a starship to any point in the galaxy in the time it took to inhale and exhale. When they learned he was out here, they would come for him. Until then, he had to keep her safe.

Even if he wounded her pride in the process.


	4. Hunters

“You're hardly alone, and, to my way of thinking, there's still plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time,” she echoed.

The comm system crackled. Neelix told them the party in the mess hall was about to begin and there were only two people missing.

“We're on our way,” Kathryn said, pushing herself off the sofa, determined to be cheerful. She didn’t blame Mark for moving on. What really rankled was knowing Mark’s romantic life had warped ahead while hers … well, it was complicated, but it certainly hadn’t left spacedock in the way she would have liked.

Chakotay offered her his arm and she accepted. They walked to the turbolift, arms linked, and she ordered it to deck two. Kathryn turned to ask Chakotay about his letter from home, but his face was clouded.

“Computer,” Chakotay said. “Match voice print, authorization gamma alpha.”

She hadn’t heard those words in four and a half years.

Heart pounding, she flattened her back against the turbolift wall as the male computer voice responded. Chakotay called for two minutes of code black delta.

The turbolift halted and lost power. Even the emergency lights were off. Locked in this black cage, she could hear the thrum of the warp engines, Chakotay’s breathing, and her own.

“The Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant are gone — dead or in prison.” His voice shook. “The war I was preparing them for is already happening.” She heard what sounded like his fist slamming into the turbolift wall. “I failed.” 

Then, his arms were around her, hard, pulling her close. 

“I failed,” he repeated. “I failed.” 

She felt his body shudder and realized her palms were pressing into his back, supporting him, giving him strength. 

“It was better not knowing,” he said, his forehead resting against the curve of her neck. “Then, I could believe someone else stepped in, someone else finished the mission I started. But, now —”

Chakotay was panting. His grip on her was so desperate, so tight, she was having trouble getting air into her lungs. Then, Kathryn went numb with realization.

“You’re in contact with superiors from home,” she said. “You could get new orders.”

His head lifted. His arms loosened. “You’re … you’re concerned about your authority?”

Kathryn bit her lips together. Chakotay’s question made her sound self-serving. If he did work for Starfleet Intelligence — and she couldn’t think of any more reasonable scenario — then they were on the same side. 

“I’m concerned about the chain of command on _Voyager_,” she clarified.

He backed away from her. “I thought we trusted each other. I thought we were friends.”

An angry flush spread across her cheeks. He, of all people, had to understand her responsibilities always came first.

Kathryn asked Chakotay again, speaking into the dark: “Does contact with home affect your ability to follow orders on this ship?”

He scoffed. “Of course not.” The knot that had formed her in her stomach untied. But Chakotay wasn’t finished. “You, though, you’ll tell me about your broken heart, but you don’t want to hear about mine — about my losses. You don’t care about me. You care about a first officer who will do whatever you want him to do.”

“That’s not true.” She took a step closer to the sound of his ragged breathing. “I can be your captain and your friend. I’m here for you, Chakotay.”

The breathing moved away from her.

“No, you’re here for your ship and your crew, for this quest home you think is so important. Damnit, Kathryn.”

His fist hit the wall again.

She blindly reached for him, but when she touched him, he pulled back.

“No. I’ll keep following your orders. I’ll talk to you, spend time with you. But I won’t let you hurt me like this again.”

The turbolift’s power returned in a rush of movement and light. 

Chakotay’s eyes were red. 

They both blinked and gulped for air. Kathryn brought a hand to her mouth, desperate to say more but knowing she couldn’t.

The doors opened.

“I can’t wait to see what Neelix has planned,” Chakotay said brightly. “He sure knows how to throw a party.”

Kathryn cleared her throat. “He sure does.”

They strode out of the turbolift together, but their arms weren’t linked anymore.

***

The letter “Chakotay” had received from “Sveta” carried a prisoner number: 2321718-455491175-545811.

Each first number signified the relevant paragraph. Subsequent numbers indicated how far to count to the relevant word.

He followed the code.

Paragraph two:

**You may not be ready to hear this, my friend, but I bring you sad tidings. The Maquis have been pushed back, pushed aside, pushed into prison and into death.**

Damnit. The code indicated “not ready to bring you back.” Why the hell wasn’t Section 31 going to return one of its agents to the Alpha Quadrant? It wasn’t his fault his plans for the Maquis didn’t come to fruition.

Paragraphs four and five:

**I hope you can keep positive, even though the distance must seem vast. Between crises, I hope you are taking care of yourself and not working too hard. I know your captain granted the Maquis equality, but remember who you are.**

**Please tell B’Elanna she and the others are still in my thoughts every day. If I may prove useful in any way — delivering messages, arranging for prayers at shrines, anything — please let me know, my friend.**

Shit. “Keep distance between yourself and your captain but she still may prove useful.” Distance from Kathryn hadn’t been his best quality on this mission. But, her Maquis sympathies were obvious and, with her capacity for risk and mind for strategy, he understood why Section 31 felt she merited additional study. But, if the Maquis were no longer relevant in the Alpha Quadrant, then what might Section 31 want from her?

Chakotay supposed in some ways it didn’t matter. He had his orders and he would follow them.

The first rule of a good lie was to keep to the truth as much as possible, so Chakotay decided he would tell Kathryn about his actual mission with the Maquis. It didn’t seem to matter anymore and he ached to talk to someone about it. Pushing aside his feelings for her wouldn’t be easy. But, he thought somewhat bitterly, that’s what she had been doing to him all these years, hadn’t she?


	5. Timeless

“I know it's a risk, probably our biggest one yet, but I'm willing to take it. Are you with me?”

“Always.”

Did he mean that? What would getting home mean for him? Would he finally tell her what he had been hiding? He had been close in the turbolift so many months ago. Since then, they hadn’t spent as much time together and Kathryn had floundered. She wanted to reconnect with Chakotay, but wasn’t sure how.

He was watching her warily. Time to lighten the mood.

“Speaking of risks. Are you ready to try some home cooking?”

He smiled. “I'll alert sickbay.”

She portioned out the vegetable biryani and lifted her fork.

“Here’s to experiments.”

The meal was delicious, which she took as a good omen for the slipstream flight.

They chatted about the backup system in case the comm link went down between the _Delta Flyer_ and _Voyager_, about their plans to protect Maquis crew members’ commissions, about her hope Starfleet would let _Voyager_ land in Golden Gate Park instead of dock at McKinley Station.

“There’s something I've always wanted to ask you,” Chakotay said as he finished a second helping. “Your gramophone. What’s the significance?”

Her eyes went to the wooden and brass antique.

“It’s been in my family for generations. I use it to listen to music sometimes.”

“May I look at it?”

She nodded and Chakotay went to lift the gramophone off its shelf. He rested it on the dining table, his hands caressing the grain of the oak sides. Kathryn’s great-grandmother had put in a small computer interface and Chakotay tapped it. Soon, the sounds of a Betazoid string quartet filled her quarters. Chakotay held out his hand.

This had never happened before.

Kathryn threw her napkin onto the table and moved toward him, wishing she had removed her uniform jacket earlier in the evening. It wouldn’t be appropriate to take it off now.

He rested his hand against the small of her back. Light on his feet, he was a smooth dancer. She followed his lead. 

They could be home tomorrow. 

“Why don’t you just use the computer when you want to hear music?” he murmured.

“I like the sound from the gramophone,” she replied. “It reminds me of home.”

“Sounds like it’s important to you.”

“It is.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“That’s good to know.” His hold on her was secure even as their dancing slowed.

The song finished.

The gramophone was silent. 

Kathryn and Chakotay barely breathed in the utter stillness of their embrace.

Home tomorrow, they could be home tomorrow.

A voice came over the comm system. “Torres to Janeway.”

Chakotay’s arms dropped to his sides. 

Kathryn stepped back and willed her voice to be crisp. “Go ahead, B’Elanna.”

“We’re all waiting for you, Captain.”

Kathryn cocked her head even though B’Elanna couldn’t see her. “Waiting for me?”

“For the final quantum drive systems walk-through Chakotay said you wanted before the slipstream flight.”

Kathryn stared at him. Chakotay smiled slightly and tilted his head toward the door.

She blinked. Why did he want her to leave? Why had he planned for their time together to be interrupted?

Chakotay’s face clouded.

Kathryn realized this had something to do with his secret.

“I’m on my way.”

The walk-through took 20 minutes and entailed nothing Kathryn hadn’t already known or checked. Still, she gave it her full attention. When she returned to her quarters, the table was tidied and the gramophone put away. Chakotay was gone. The candles were still burning on the table, though, and she looked at the thin flames, wondering what the hell was going on. 

Well, there was a more practical way to find out. 

Kathryn checked her computer and saw Chakotay had alerted the crew to tomorrow’s slipstream flight and wished them a good last night in the Delta Quadrant.

Maybe the dance meant goodbye?

She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, then went to blow out the candles. Tomorrow was sure to be a busy day. Best to try to get some sleep.

***

In his quarters, “Chakotay” was shaking. 

He couldn’t lose her. 

He wouldn’t. 

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he muttered to himself. “The orders were to distance yourself. They didn’t say anything about not creating a tether.”


	6. Endgame I (The Admiral)

“Chakotay.” Admiral Janeway rushed to catch up with him in the corridor. “A word?”

He nodded and held out his arm to let her lead the way. She brought him to her guest quarters and sealed the door. “Say it.”

He met her eyes, understanding but silent.

Her back against the door, the grey-haired admiral began to tremble.

“Say it or so help me I’ll tell her everything.”

He called for voice print authorization and five minutes of code black delta.

The stars became the only source of light.

The admiral began to move toward him. “Every time you wanted to give up and stay on a planet was a chance to be honest with your captain. Every time she nearly cracked under the pressure was an opportunity for you to do the right thing.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He projected calm, but she knew his heart was pounding and his throat was dry.

“Don’t play coy with me.” The admiral was getting closer. “I know Section 31 sent you to weaponize the Maquis against whatever hostile aliens might emerge from the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. I know what you knew about spore drive. I know your fears about what your superiors would do to a captain unauthorized to know about Section 31.” 

She knew he was thinking about the day Section 31 agents inked the tattoo on his forehead.

Or maybe he was envisioning the ship he had been in for a half-second’s travel from Earth to Bajor. 

He even could be considering the ways he planned to protect B’Elanna — just B’Elanna — from what Section 31 planned to do with the Maquis.

His face centimeters from hers, he spat his words. “I’ve done my best with the knowledge I had.”

She wouldn’t accept that. Not this time.

“That knowledge is growing, isn’t it?” The admiral’s voice was low and threatening. “I know about the mission you got a few weeks ago during your comm call to the Alpha Quadrant. Is that part of doing your best, Chakotay? What happened to your promise to follow your captain’s orders? What happened to putting _Voyager’s _crew first?”

He looked away. “I’m not going to disobey her orders.”

“Like hell you're not!” the admiral roared. Her hands went to her hips. “You don’t need a direct order from your captain to know better than to manipulate a member of her crew.”

Chakotay turned toward the viewport.

The admiral followed his gaze. The Delta Quadrant. She had spent too much of her life here, searching for comfort in unfamiliar constellations. A red dwarf star caught her eye. 

_The passenger ship from Earth to Vulcan. Staring through a viewport at a red dwarf. The stench of someone’s Andorian cabbage soup turning her stomach. _

_That was when the man sat next to her and asked if she was okay. _

_The admiral had been home a year and a half, but, torn up by time and obsessed with getting _Voyager _back sooner, she had barely eaten or slept. _

_Starfleet was still recovering from the Federation-Ferengi War, but she had been ordered to a sabbatical. T’Pel had invited the admiral to spend time at a Vulcan monastery to help her order her thoughts. _

_She turned to inform the stranger on the passenger ship she wasn’t interested in conversation, but his face was open and kind and she found herself telling him she was frustrated by a persistent problem. _

_He asked if she played tennis. _

_She replied that she hadn’t in a long time. _

_He said tennis was about timing: when to hit hard versus when to volley and tire out your opponent. He said to pace herself, that her problem’s answers would come. _

_Then the ship landed on Vulcan with a bounce so rough the pilot apologized. The admiral asked the man if this was his stop. _

_“No,” he said, “it’s just me and my travel bag all the way to Kaelon II.” _

_She said goodbye and stepped into the hot, Vulcan night. The admiral watched the ship disappear into the stars, then she boarded another passenger ship back to Earth. _

_She resolved to volley with time until she was ready to hit hard._

The admiral blinked. 

She stepped in front of Chakotay, her back to the viewport, her face shadowed. 

He needed to understand. 

“You were right, Chakotay, that first day in my ready room. You are good with people, and not good with machines. What you’re going to do to Seven is going to degrade her neural implants. Your mission to catalog her Borg technology for Section 31 is going to weaken her to the point that an injury on a routine away mission will kill her. You’ll never forgive yourself — and once the autopsy comes back, I’ll never forgive you, either.” She put a hand to his chest. “But you haven’t done any of that yet. You’re still the person you want to be and your captain, your friend, still trusts you.”

He winced. “But you don’t?”

Starlight glinted off his commbadge and her fingers curled. 

_Three years from now. _

_Seven, dead on the autopsy table, pale as a drone. _

_The Doctor, his holo-matrix still flickering from their early battles with the Fen Domar. _

_The EMH had isolated time indexes on years of undetected damage to Seven’s implants and there was only one explanation. _

_As captain, she tore off Chakotay’s commbadge and marched him to transporter room two. Still in orbit of the moon where Seven had been injured, Kathryn ordered the transporter chief to beam them down and retrieve them in an hour, then she threw both her and Chakotay’s commbadges across the room. _

_They materialized under a lightning storm. _

_“Talk,” she ordered. _

_He was silent. _

_She wanted to strike him, to leave him on the moon, to say she finally understood his marriage, to scream at him for killing a member of her crew. _

_There was a flash of lightning. She could see Chakotay gasping for air, rocking, hugging himself. _

_Suddenly, he started to speak. _

_As the storm raged, Chakotay’s words spilled everywhere and Kathryn learned what she had wanted to know for ten years. _

The admiral shook herself back to the guest quarters.

She realized she was clutching Chakotay’s chest, his uniform dry, his commbadge in place. His eyes were wide with confusion. She reminded herself that he didn’t know, he couldn’t possibly know.

The admiral took a slow, deep breath. “Age brings a lot of things, Chakotay, but wisdom isn’t always one of them. I try to remember you the way you are now, still believing in yourself, still proud of your work with Section 31. I did the best I could and so did you, but you know the mistake you made.”

He answered instantly and with a self-loathing she didn’t remember hearing from him until years later in their journey.

“New Earth.”

She could feel the chill in the air, the crunch of their footsteps walking away from the shelter.

“You should have told me that night in the forest. You should have trusted me.” The admiral forced herself to keep talking through the pain in her chest. “When the time came, we could have worked together to help you. But you were too scared, too sure they would eliminate me once they came to get you. Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Chakotay’s hand raked his hair. She knew he was trying to grasp what she was saying, straining to make the mental shifts necessary to improve outcomes in this timeline. 

But, with his tan hand against his black hair, he looked just like —

_Chakotay’s agitated fingers raked through his hair over and over again. _

_The EMH warned his blood pressure was approaching critical levels. _

_“Administer the hypospray,” she ordered as Chakotay bucked again and again against her firm hands holding him on the biobed. _

_“Captain,” the EMH protested, “we’ve already exceeded the number of doses —” _

_“If you have a better idea, Doctor, now’s the time.” _

_They had been through this before. In the thirteen years since Seven died, Chakotay’s hypertension had spiraled from mild concern to grave danger. _

_“I don’t have a better idea,” the Doctor admitted. He loaded the hypospray, but the biobed monitor began blaring and Chakotay locked eyes with her and Kathryn knew it was too late. _

The admiral staggered. She backed into the sofa under the viewport and her knees buckled. Chakotay caught her by the shoulders before she fell. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

He pulled her close. 

This Chakotay hasn’t done anything wrong. 

This Chakotay is still a good man.

“What’s happening to you?” this Chakotay was pleading. “How can I help you, Admiral?”

She had never heard him call her that. He died a few weeks before they got home, before her promotion. She looked up at him, her eyes shining, her words slow and purposeful.

“You know my name, Chakotay.”

“Kathryn,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

When the power returned, they were sitting on the sofa and he was holding her. The warmth of his arms, his smell of burnt timber and _Voyager_-replicated soap, the rhythm of his beating heart — the admiral shut her eyes against the light, but tears still leaked out and her body shuddered.

Chakotay called for the computer to reduce illumination to zero.

She saw the starlight play on the curves of his face. He stroked her grey hair and she touched his cheek. Satin. She felt warm. She hadn’t felt warm in so long.

Her aged hand moved his fingers to the zipper on her uniform.

“Please,” she whispered.

His fingers closed around hers.

“Yes,” he murmured, and tipped her chin to kiss her.

***

The EMH under code black delta always gave “Chakotay” the creeps.

“It appears she’s been implanted with a neurological device.” The EMH’s vacant eyes were on his Section 31-unlocked medical tricorder. He was scanning the grey-haired admiral sleeping in Chakotay’s bed. “It’s cloaked, and it appears to be malfunctioning.”

“For how long?” Chakotay asked.

“Activation 34 years ago, malfunctioning commencing 16 years later. It’s likely affecting her memory center.”

Chakotay’s hands curled into fists. His fear was coming true — he had been unable to stop Section 31 from hurting her.

“I told you not to follow those orders,” he hissed at the EMH. “I told you I would file a protest in the next encoded datastream.”

The EMH shrugged.

“Can you fix the damage?” Chakotay demanded.

The Doctor nodded and got to work. 


	7. Endgame II (The Captain)

“Set a course, for home.”

After seven years, the rest of the journey took seven minutes. Permission to land in Golden Gate Park was granted, the condition blue was complete, and Kathryn’s voice cracked as she gave the order for all hands to secure their stations and disembark. She added, “I thank each and every one of you for your service. It has been an honor to be your captain.”

The viewscreen showed scores of shuttlecraft and wave after wave of transporter beams bringing family and friends. Chakotay caressed Seven’s cheek when he said he would see her in a few minutes, that he needed to help the captain lock down the bridge.

Kathryn tapped at the computer she and Chakotay had shared, double-checking system after system. He said her name once, twice, again.

“You can go.” She glanced at him, then returned to her work. “You’ve fulfilled your obligation. Thank you.”

He sat in his chair and reached for the computer. “Let me help you.”

She batted his hand away. “You’ve been waiting seven years for this, Chakotay. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

Years ago, she thought getting home would unlock his secrets. Now, she was too tired to care.

He wasn’t.

“Admiral Janeway said you still trust me.”

Her eyebrow went up. When did they get a chance to talk?

“Interesting,” Kathryn replied. “Did she say why you’ve never trusted me?”

Chakotay leaned toward her. “Let me tell you a story.”

“Now?” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to hear about your angry warrior or your scorpion or —”

He spoke over her and, at his command, the bridge plunged into darkness. Kathryn didn’t have the energy to move, but she did listen.

“There once was a young man at odds with his tribe. Intent on finding his own path at a young age, he traveled far from his people. Joining a neighboring tribe, he found wisdom and wonders. The young man believed he was complete.”

Kathryn understood Chakotay was the young man. 

“But, an elder from that tribe stepped from the shadows and said, ‘This tribe could lose its wisdom and wonders if it does not have falcons in the sky. For the falcon can see and swoop and soar — and protect. Would you like to protect the tribe?’ Humbled, the young man said yes.”

Starfleet Intelligence. She had been right all this time. 

“So, the young man learned how to see and swoop and soar … and how to be alone, for the falcon is both a powerful creature and a solitary one. But, no longer young, the man met another solitary creature and yearned to be with her.”

Kathryn’s hand grasped for Chakotay’s. 

“But he knew the talons of other falcons, though they may be out of sight, are sharp. So, the man couldn’t tell his beloved he was a falcon, even though it broke his heart.”

Their fingers were entwined.

Kathryn spoke through the tightness in her throat. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Your future counterpart said I’ve been a fool to be afraid for all these years.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to report to headquarters, then find you in Golden Gate Park and tell you everything.”

The bridge snapped back to life. 

Both their eyes were closed, and they opened them slowly.

“Affirmative. I’ll lock down ships’ systems, Commander. See you in the park.”

“Of course, Captain.”

He stood and took a lingering look at her face.

She watched him walk to the turbolift. The next time she saw him, the barriers between them would be gone — his secret, her fraternization concerns, their isolation in the Delta Quadrant. 

All too often in her life, Kathryn had rushed headlong into a new adventure. This time, she reveled in the in-between moments, in the knowledge she was crossing from some of the loneliest years of her life into the promise of a rich, love-filled time. 

Kathryn locked down the bridge station by station, silently appreciating each officer‘s contribution to her ship. Then, her footsteps echoed as she methodically did the same in engineering, weapons storage, and the transporter rooms. When she arrived at her last stop, sickbay, the door opened to a party complete with boisterous laughter, Klingon opera, and non-toxic cigars.

Kathryn murmured “welcome aboard” to Tom and B’Elanna’s newborn, received a bone-crunching hug from Admiral Paris, and thanked the Doctor for consistently exceeding his programming.

“Are you all right, Captain?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

Savoring her last moments with her ship, Kathryn took the long route and then, shading her eyes with her hand, exited into the sunlight. Admirals Hayes, Patterson, and Ross were waiting for her. It was a blur of handshakes and congratulations. Then, Admiral Ross took her aside.

“Excellent work, Captain,” he said quietly. “Mission accomplished. The Maquis captain is in custody — and we won’t let him go.”

***

“Chakotay” stepped off a transporter pad deep within Section 31.

“Welcome home,” said the black-clad agent at the controls. 

Chakotay shook his head. “I was home. I’ve followed orders, kept cover this whole time. But, I love Kathryn Janeway and I want to be with her. Either let her in or boot me out.”

“Oh, but it’s not that simple.” The agent motioned with his fingers and two larger agents stepped toward Chakotay. “It’s not that simple at all.”

There was a struggle. 

Then, with his right arm cinched behind his back, Chakotay was marched off for briefings, investigations, and months of retraining.


	8. Eighteen Years Later

“Admiral Janeway?”

The voice was unfamiliar, but she didn’t look up from her packing. “My sabbatical starts at the end of this week. Admiral Riker has taken over my responsibilities. He’s three doors down.”

The voice continued as if she hadn't spoken. “You’re needed for questioning.” Kathryn’s choppy halo of dark red hair peeked above the storage containers as the source of the voice, an officer dressed all in black, called for a site-to-site transport.

They materialized in an interrogation room. Another officer, also clad in black, moved toward her. His hands were open and in front of him.

Section 31, she thought, I hate these bastards.

“Thank you for talking with me today, Admiral.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” she replied.

The agent who had come to her office began to break down the pattern enhancers that allowed Section 31 to control who could beam into its top-secret headquarters. One of the enhancers swung near Kathryn’s face and the bluish-purple light shone in her eyes.

_Ten years ago._

_Ferenginar._

_Blood and mud caked on what was left of her dress uniform._

_The sleeves. She had been ripping the sleeves into tourniquets for Admiral Paris. She wanted him to regain consciousness, needed him to regain consciousness, so she had to stop the bleeding._

_Their commbadges were in pieces back at the Federation embassy._

_The rain came down in sheets and the stench of rotten vegetation made her dry heave. The burns on her back threatened to split open again. The gash on her forehead was dripping blood._

_Admiral Paris opened his eyes. _

_His words gurgled and then became clear: “Section 31.”_

_Even he didn’t officially know, but, in gasps and ragged breaths, the admiral shared key information about the cabal of black-clad officers. His bloodshot eyes locked on hers as he told her who she could trust within Starfleet and who she couldn’t. Kathryn hadn’t any idea there was an organization with the scope and power and arrogance of what Admiral Paris was describing. It all made sense, though, and she struggled to breathe as she learned about this cancer on everything she had worked toward her entire life._

_Admiral Paris’ eyes drifted closed again._

_Kathryn wanted to speak, but she had been screaming for days and her voice was gone. She wanted to cry, but she was dehydrated. Collapsing would be too easy, so she sure as hell wouldn’t do that._

_Or would she?_

_As the tourniquets drifted from her weakened fingers into the mud, a team materialized with pattern enhancers. Their bluish-purple light blurred across Kathryn’s eyes just before she and Admiral Paris transported from the muck of Ferenginar to a gleaming sickbay._

Kathryn shook herself back to the windowless interrogation room. 

“I’ll start by offering you condolences,” said the black-clad agent she took to be in charge.

“My husband was from Kaelon II,” Kathryn replied reflexively. “His death was expected.”

The formerly isolationist people of Kaelon II were well-known for their scientific knoweldge, their art, their music — and their suicide ritual at 60 years old.

“That’s not what I meant, Admiral.” The agent extended his hand toward a chair and, seething, Kathryn sat. “You’re here, Admiral, because the man you knew as Commander Chakotay was ruled dead three months ago. This is a routine investigation into his time on your ship, the _USS_ _Voyager_, about 20 years ago.”

Kathryn bit her lips together. Chakotay, she believed, died more than three months ago. Not by much, though, so the agent did seem to be telling some measure of truth.

Still, Section 31 operatives were not to be trusted.

The agent interrogated her for five hours. He seemed suspicious of her relationship with Chakotay — personal and professional — and challenged Kathryn repeatedly on her assessments of Chakotay’s honesty, her trust in him, and any romantic feelings they may have had for each other. It became a game, and Kathryn refused to allow her questioner even one opportunity to trap her.

When it was over, she demanded to know how many of her former crewmembers would be subjected to this treatment.

“You’re the last one,” the agent said, and Kathryn gritted her teeth. 

Then, the agent said the man known to her as Commander Chakotay had left a personal message to be delivered to Kathryn Janeway upon his death. The message had been vetted and couldn’t be removed from the interrogation room. Before Kathryn could object to the restriction, the agent held out a padd. An edge of the device caught the light.

_Sixteen years ago._

_A glint of light on the edge of a padd._

_She took the padd, read the equations on it, looked at her husband, and smiled._

_“Four,” she said, “the answer to all of these is four.”_

_“Yes!” He pulled her onto his lap. “Four: the smallest composite number, the smallest squared prime, the maximum number of dimensions of real associative division algebra —”_

_“Stop,” she held up a hand, laughing, “I get it.”_

_He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, marry a mathematician and this is what happens._

_“So,” he placed a hand on her knee, “a family of four?”_

_She went to the replicator and ordered the double-ovulation hormone hypospray._

_“Four,” she agreed, and pressed the hypospray to her own neck as she sat back on his lap to kiss him._

The Section 31 officer was holding the padd in front of Kathryn’s eyes.

She took the device and began to read.

**Kathryn,**

**If you are seeing this message, I am dead.**

**As I consider how life slips away as if it were a stream and how music is best danced to when we feel at home, I thank you for every flight, big and small, that we took together.**

**Always,**  
**Chakotay**

The officer snatched back the padd and ordered another site-to-site transport. Kathryn closed her eyes before the pattern enhancers powered up. She rematerialized in her office, sealed the door, sunk to the floor, and rested her head on her knees.

Was it too much to hope for?

That evening, Kathryn closed every drapery in the home that once held her family of four. Before completing the Kaelon II suicide ritual, her husband gave away or recycled everything he owned, but she still had his wedding ring and one of his suits. The twins had taken most of their things to their shared dorm room at the academy. Early entry at age 15 was a vigorous program, but Kathryn had pushed them so their father, in case she couldn’t change his mind about the ritual, would be alive when the acceptance letters arrived. After he died and the twins moved out, Kathryn had gone through her own belongings and recycled most of them. But, there was one thing she always knew she would keep.

From a high shelf, Kathryn pulled down her gramophone.

** _If you are seeing this message, I am dead._ **

She inspected the sides and took a moment to run her hand along the grain of the oak.

** _As I consider how life slips away as if it were a stream …_ **

She checked the small computer for any files she hadn’t noticed before, and even searched for time indexes around the stardate of _Voyager’s_ slipstream flight.

** _… how music is best danced to when we feel at home …_ **

She pried off the gramophone’s bottom panel and peered inside.

** _... I thank you for every flight, big and small, that we took together._ **

Carved into the wood was a star chart and coordinates.

***

Please, “Chakotay” thought, let her figure it out. Please let me see her again. Please give me this chance. 


	9. One Week Later

Sitting in the passenger ship as it neared the planet from the star chart, Kathryn wondered what to expect. An old-style isolinear chip with information? A hologram with a message? She had been kicking herself for not digging deeper into Chakotay’s sudden interest in her old, oak gramophone so many years ago. 

It’s not like New Earth was the only time she had been reminded of his carving skills. 

Every year on their birthday, something wood-carved arrived for her twins — baby rattles, blocks, abacuses, padd holders. There was never a note, but Kathryn knew. When they got old enough to ask, she told her children they had a guardian angel. Five months ago, when their fifteenth birthday came and went with no gifts, Kathryn had looked at the stars and whispered her goodbye to Chakotay.

She double-checked herself — it had been five months, right?

A few days after that birthday, Kathryn’s sense of time began to distort. Objects, smells, sensations would rip her from whatever she was doing and push her mind to something else.

Kathryn still saw _Voyager’s _EMH for her medical needs, so she asked him to make a housecall.

He pronounced her as healthy as she was the first day he examined her. 

A tilt of the EMH’s medical tricorder caused Kathryn to experience a memory right in front of him, yet the EMH said he didn’t detect anything amiss aside from a momentary adrenaline increase — and it wasn’t even clinically significant. Frustrated, Kathryn wrote to Tuvok for advice. He suggested she take a sabbatical from Starfleet to spend a few months seeking clarity at a Vulcan monastery. When she found Chakotay’s star chart in her gramophone, Kathryn messaged Tuvok to say she would arrive a few days later than expected.

In the last six months, she had lost her husband, her children had lost their father, and her mind had decided to mutiny on her. Perhaps, finally, something unexpectedly good was happening. 

A child in the seat in front of her on the passenger ship dropped a ball. Kathryn instinctively reached to pick it up. The ball fit easily into her hand.

_Seventeen years ago._

_She tossed the ball into the air._

_The tennis club computer had determined they were on the same level of play, but this was ridiculous. She and her opponent had been trading games for hours, always needing a tie-breaker to determine a set winner._

_Kathryn served, then realized she had been hitting diagonally just to watch him run._

_A volley later, she realized he had been hitting high just to watch her jump._

_She grinned, and called out that he was dropping his shoulder. He replied that she was relying too much on her backhand. They argued and he said whoever won the next game could choose the restaurant._

_“Restaurant?” she asked. “What restaurant?”_

_“When I take you out to dinner,” he replied._

_At the Betazoid bistro she’d selected, he told her about his upbringing on Kaelon II and his work in the mathematics department at the Daystrom Institute in San Francisco. She asked so many questions, he told her that he needed to design an equation showing proliferation of queries related to uninteresting topics._

_“On the contrary,” she took a sip of her wine, “I think you’re very interesting.”_

_He laughed and demanded to learn more about her._

_For the first time since getting home from the Delta Quadrant, she spoke unguardedly. She told him how she had been lonely, frightened, confused — but couldn’t show her crew any of it. Her strength had been suffocating her and she’d gotten home just in time to breathe._

_He reached for her hand._

_She held on tight._

_The first time she kissed him, she touched his cheek and it was rough with stubble. Thank God, she thought, and kissed him more deeply._

“Can I have my ball back?” the child on the passenger ship asked. Kathryn blinked and handed it to him as the child’s mother reminded him to say please.

The passenger ship landed.

Kathryn had never been to Farius Prime, but she knew its reputation as a home for a multitude of species. She counted Bolians, Nausicaans, Klingons, and more as she disembarked. Her travel bag slung on her shoulder, she used a civilian tricorder to move toward the coordinates.

It was a park, grassy and open, with a large, granite and chrome memorial to those who died in the Federation-Ferengi War.

Kathryn cringed.

If she and Admiral Paris had been able to convince the Grand Nagus to listen, she was certain they could have prevented the war. Instead, they spent years ordering good officers to their deaths.

Kathryn stood so the memorial wasn’t in her line of sight.

Using her tricorder, she looked for evidence of a buried canister, a clue in the slant of the sun — anything that might have stood the test of time.

A voice startled her. “Are you lost?”

Kathryn looked up. An Caitian wearing a park employee’s uniform was approaching her.

“No,” Kathryn replied. “Thank you.”

“You know,” the Caitian remarked, “twenty-five years ago this area was very different. Small homes, mostly.”

Twenty-five years ago would be the last time Chakotay could have known what this planet might be like before carving the coordinates into her gramophone.

“Homes, you say?”

“Some people who owned those homes now live in apartments on the other side of Jinami Street.” The Caitian jerked his head to show the direction, then whispered, “Is your name Kathryn?” She nodded and he pressed a key and a small map into her hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured, shifting the key into her pocket. 

The Caitian walked away. 

The map directed Kathryn through a bustling trade area, across a university campus, and, finally, to a tall, modern apartment building.

Her key had an apartment number on it, but Kathryn knocked. She heard footsteps within the apartment, then the door swung open.

She saw dark eyes, satin cheeks, and a tan forehead without a tattoo.

The walls tilted, but then his hands came out to steady her, pull her into the apartment, and close the door. Her travel bag fell to the floor.

“You bastard,” she gasped. “You faked your own death.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Chakotay replied, and pulled her into an embrace.

Kathryn’s heart was beating so fast, she took deep breaths for fear of passing out. His hair had gone grey. His body was more round. His arms around her felt the same, though. Dear God, his arms felt the same.

“I missed you so much,” Chakotay breathed. “I want to hear everything about how you’ve been all these years.”

“You first,” she said.

He agreed, then added. “Can I get you anything? Do you still drink coffee?”

She pulled back just far enough so he could see her raised eyebrow. “Unless they’ve invented a darker color, my replicator order is still coffee, black.” Chakotay’s smile was so pure, she couldn’t help but grin back. “Why?”

“Your future counterpart liked tea, remember?”

Kathryn stepped away and ran her fingers through her dark red hair. “I’m not like her.”

“Actually,” Chakotay frowned, “that’s why I needed to see you after all this time, but let’s discuss it over coffee.” 

The lack of a tattoo on his face was unnerving, and she was eager for a lot of answers. Still, Kathryn had learned patience. If Chakotay had gone through the trouble of faking his own death and bringing her here, then she would let him lead the proceedings — for now. 

The replicator was on a nearby wall and he stepped over to tap in commands. “Do you want anything to eat? Soup, maybe?”

“Sure.” Kathryn hadn’t realized she was hungry until he mentioned it. A grin tugged at her lips at the familiarity. 

“I just downloaded a new recipe.” Chakotay turned to talk to her as the items materialized. “I hope you like it. It’s —”

_Andorian cabbage soup._

_The shuttle ride to Kaelon II for the ritual._

_The twins pressed up against the viewport arguing whether a star was a red dwarf or a red giant._

_The soup-smell turning her stomach._

_Her husband’s voice: “... the Mutara Nebula, Jupiter Station, Ferenginar, Rigel V, Arkaria, the —”_

_“You’ve made your point.” Her throat was constricted. She could barely speak. She could barely breathe._

_He tightened his arm around her shoulders. “I’m simply saying I thought I lost you so many times, but I never tried to stop you from doing what you feel is right. I need to do this, my love, and you need to understand.”_

_She blinked back tears. This was the last time they would have this argument and he was going to win._

_They were approaching the stop on Vulcan._

_The ship landed with a bounce so rough the pilot apologized. The twins loved it and Kathryn had been through worse landings, but, in her already-fragile state, the jar rattled her enough to turn to her husband and sob the words she had been dreading for years: “I’m going to miss you so much.”_

“Kathryn?” Chakotay stepped away from the replicator and was next to her in one stride.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“No, you’re not.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “It’s worse than I thought. You’re having trouble with your sense of time, aren’t you? Your mind is pulling you to things that happened before, isn’t it?”

Her hand went to her throat. “How could you possibly know about that?”

“How do you think your future counterpart remembered exactly where _Voyager_ would be and when? The logs were good, but not as good as her memory. She couldn’t stop reliving the journey. It was making her miserable. And," he added darkly, “I need to tell you why it's all my fault.”

***

Every knock on the door, he hoped would be Kathryn. The Caitian had promised to look for her whenever “Chakotay” wasn’t at the park.

If he could figure out how to tell her, how to explain … how to hope she would love him anyway. 

Then there would be a chance for so much more. 


	10. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like a visual for Voyager’s former command team all these years later, I used this [photo from Star Trek Las Vegas 2013](http://www.treknews.net/2013/08/14/stlv-2013-sunday-report/stlv-2013-robert-beltran-kate-mulgrew/).

After he dematerialized the Andorian cabbage soup, Chakotay replicated a coffee and a tea and sat with Kathryn at the small table in his kitchen. He told Kathryn how he joined Section 31 when he was an ensign.

“People don’t understand what it is,” he said. Her arms were crossed and her face was hard. “Section 31 keeps the Federation safe. It’s even better than Starfleet because Section 31 can move faster, strike harder.” 

He told her about his mission to weaponize the Maquis, his orders to evaluate her for Section 31 recruitment, his unwitting damage to Seven in the other timeline, and, finally, the device Section 31 ordered implanted into Kathryn’s head.

“It was when you were in sickbay after being de-assimilated.” Chakotay looked away, then met her angry eyes. “The EMH received instructions from Section 31 via encoded datastream. He called me to sickbay, initiated code black delta, and we argued. I lost.”

Kathryn’s coffee was untouched. She was shaking. 

“Section 31 wanted to track you more closely in case you left the ship again,” Chakotay said. “They believed I’d been compromised by my feelings for you and let you take too many risks.”

She stood up so quickly, her chair crashed to the floor.

“Kathryn!”

“We’re done here,” she said.

Chakotay was next to her in an instant. “You can leave if you want to, but please let me explain a few things. Starting with how that device helped Section 31 save your life more times than I can count.”

She had already scooped her travel bag from the floor, but Kathryn looked at Chakotay, her fingers tight on the strap of the bag. 

Chakotay took a deep breath. “The signal from the device let agents find your disabled shuttle in the Mutara Nebula, locate you under debris after the explosion at Jupiter Station, triangulate your position with Admiral Paris on Ferenginar, punch through the interference on —” 

“Understood,” she spoke through clenched teeth. 

She had told her children they had a guardian angel. 

Damnit. 

“No.” Kathryn turned to leave. “Saving my life, no matter how many times, doesn’t negate the truths you hid from me, the damage you caused.”

“My name is Daniel Carrabero.” His hands were open and in front of him. “I was born on February 9, 2329. I really am from Trebus and did grow up near the old Demilitarized Zone.”

Kathryn hesitated. 

“I begged to leave Section 31 after _Voyager_ got home, but they wouldn’t let me go. I saw every protest you filed, every inquiry into my whereabouts. The first six months were hell for both of us. But, separately, we moved on, truly came home, remembered who we were before the Delta Quadrant.”

Her grip on the bag loosened slightly. 

“I sent those gifts to your children every year to tell you I was still celebrating your joys and mourning your losses. I read the obituaries about your husband. I still wouldn’t have bothered you again, but I heard about your device malfunctioning. Section 31 was going to let it happen. It was an experiment and you were the lab rat. I gave up everything to fix this, to pay my debt to you.”

She looked at his open hands. Hands she had held. Hands she had mostly pushed out of her mind for seventeen and a half years.

Kathryn lowered the bag on the floor again and folded her arms. “Then you’d better get started.”

He nodded. “Stay here.” He went into a room within the apartment. When he emerged, he had the most advanced holoemitter Kathryn had ever seen. 

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

The man she had known as Chakotay called for code black delta. Instead of affecting the EMH’s power source, though, the hologram flashed and reappeared in a black uniform. 

“What do you need me to do?” it asked, eyes vacant, voice monotone. 

Kathryn lunged for her travel bag. “I’m not letting that _thing_ muck around in my brain!”

“Kathryn.” He put the holoemitter on the floor. “Section 31 won’t help you and the device is cloaked. No other doctor could find it in a hundred years. I don’t want you to keep suffering.”

While she paused, he informed the EMH of the device and ordered the technology powered down. A medical tricorder appeared in the EMH’s hand. A few taps later, as Kathryn was weighing her options, the EMH said, “The device is inactive.”

She didn’t feel any differently. 

Her eyes flicked around the apartment. 

Nothing. 

Kathryn reached into a compartment in her travel bag. There was one object that triggered memories every time. They were mostly good, but any memory pulled from her against her will was unwelcome. 

She opened her hand and stared at her husband’s wedding ring.

She remembered slipping the ring on his finger at the ceremony on Earth’s moon, the planet luminous behind him, her smile so big her cheeks ached. 

She remembered focusing on the ring as he held her hand when she was in labor with the twins, the pain in her back searing up and down her entire body.

She remembered pulling the ring off his finger once the ritual was complete on Kaelon II, her vision blurred and her throat tight. 

But time didn’t distort. 

Reality didn’t shift. 

Kathryn put the ring back into her bag.

“Daniel,” she said. “I’m not sure how to thank you.”

“Please,” he replied, “call me Chakotay. Daniel is dead and I’m glad to see him go. I’d rather be a man you once loved than anyone else.”

***

He’d missed being Chakotay. He really had. And, damn, had he missed Kathryn Janeway. 


	11. The End

They talked. 

About Section 31.

About _Voyager_.

About New Earth.

When the sun set, Chakotay showed her the guest room and bid her good night. When Kathryn woke up, he had hot coffee ready.

Over a pancake breakfast, Chakotay told Kathryn about the woman he lived with for fourteen years. She was a Section 31 agent, too, and helped him come to terms with the loss of his _Voyager_ family.

Kathryn couldn’t help but ask. “What happened to her?”

“Killed in action three years ago.” Chakotay looked down at his half-eaten pancakes. “The Federation-Ferengi War was hell, even at the end.”

In sympathy, Kathryn took his hand. His fingers were thicker than her husband’s had been. As her mind processed the comparison, she dropped Chakotay’s hand. 

“Tell me about your death.” She picked up her fork and sectioned off a bite of pancake.

Chakotay tugged his earlobe. “I created a transporter duplicate of myself, then injected him with a toxin.”

Kathryn nearly choked on her food. 

“I’m not proud of what I did, Kathryn, but we’ve both killed people in the line of duty and I promised myself I would never lie to you again.”

She couldn’t argue with that. 

He suggested an outing. 

Her eyebrows went up. “You can leave the apartment?”

“Sure.” He rose from his chair. “Dead men tell no tales.”

They spent the next few days settling into a routine of meals, sightseeing, and conversation. She had so many questions about how Section 31 brought him back into service after _Voyager_, about his adventures, about his life as a secret agent. He told her how missions with Section 31 were thrilling, how clandestine work was the most effective way to protect the Federation. He said he was sure she had a nimble enough mind to see the importance and value of Section 31.

Kathryn messaged Tuvok, canceling her plans to go to Vulcan.

Weeks went by.

One night Chakotay stood in front of the bathroom mirror and inked the tattoo on his forehead for old time’s sake. Kathryn traced it with her fingers. “I, uh,” she said, “I always wanted to do this.”

He touched her shoulder, but she pulled away. 

When she went to Earth for the academy’s semester break, Kathryn enjoyed every moment with her children. Her brief visits to headquarters were invigorating, too. But she found herself leaning forward on the passenger ship back to Farius Prime, eager to return to Chakotay. When she arrived at the apartment, he complimented her new earrings. 

“Thank you.” She self-consciously touched one of the small triangles. “I figured wearing something non-regulation could help me remember I’m on sabbatical, far away from Starfleet Command.”

She wore the earrings every day after that.

Kathryn and Chakotay had seen most of the planet, so they went back to some of their favorite spots. 

It was at the Farius Prime Observatory that Kathryn started holding Chakotay’s hand when they walked.

On the Barrier Island Ferry, she leaned against him and he put his arms around her.

At the botanical gardens, she kissed him.

A few nights later, she said the guest room got cold in the evenings and did Chakotay know of a heat source that might warm the bed. He asked if that meant what he thought it did. She nodded.

Kathryn prided herself on her instincts and Chakotay’s lovemaking was just what she expected: tender, respectful, gentle. He caressed her face. He kissed her breasts. He told her she was beautiful. 

She touched his satin cheeks and felt him inside her and nearly wept. All those years of yearning on _Voyager_, she thought, and this is when it finally happens. 

The next day, she sat on the sofa with her padd and remarked on the job offers she was getting during her time away from Starfleet headquarters: the Daystrom Institute, the Vulcan Science Academy, the Bajoran Institute of Science, and many more.

“It’s a shame you can’t leave the planet,” she remarked.

“Kathryn,” Chakotay sat next to her, “if there’s one thing Section 31 won’t tolerate, it’s being made a fool. If word got out the organization ruled me dead when I was alive, every other agent would get ideas. Consider me a free man.”

She grinned and began to scroll on her padd.

“The work with the Bajorans involves analysis of increased ion storm activity affecting atmospheres across the system, particularly in the inner ring,” she mused. “There might be a lot of downed wood on those planets, perfect for carving.”

“You’re thoughtful.” He kissed her forehead as she held the padd to her chest. “But I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.”

Kathryn accepted the invitation from the Bajorans and she and Chakotay packed up the apartment. He ran a hand along his old medicine bundle. He had told her how, on _Voyager_, he came to believe in the spirituality Section 31 had told him to fake. 

“I’ll take a long bath while you go on your vision quest,” she said, knowing what he was thinking without him having to explain.

When she slid into bed, he ran his hands along her skin, still soft from the bath. She moved closer to him, let him climb on top of her. As his hips moved in rhythm with hers, she told him over and over how grateful she was that he was back in her life, how happy she was that they could leave the planet together. The next morning, she looked around the mostly-empty apartment.

“Our first home together,” she said.

“Don’t forget New Earth,” he murmured.

“Our first real home together,” she corrected herself. “This was where I could finally, truly know you, understand you.”

They were on the street in front of the apartment building, travel bags on their shoulders, when he cursed.

“What is it?”

“I forgot my medicine bundle. Wait here while I go get it? I’ll be fast — we won’t miss the passenger ship to Bajor.”

She nodded, and pulled out a padd to reply to professional correspondence as well as a letter from her children and one from Tuvok. He had become a great-grandfather and had included photographs of a chubby baby Kathryn couldn’t wait to meet. She watched Chakotay enter the apartment building and disappear from her sight.

***

When he got to the apartment, “Chakotay” opened a kitchen cabinet and pulled out the medicine bundle. He removed a thumb-sized piece of technology. He tapped it once.

“Carrabero to Devorak,” he said.

“Devorak here,” came the reply.

“Operation Falcon is in play. Are agents standing by to meet me and the target once we get to Bajor?”

“Yes, sir. Safe travels. Devorak out.”

Section 31 had wanted to count Kathryn Janeway among its agents for more than a quarter-century. The tracking device in her brain would never power up again, but it had been useful for a long, long time. The actual person would be even better. Finally, she was primed to cooperate — he was sure he had seen to that.

Daniel Carrabero hadn’t risen through the ranks of Section 31 for nothing.

The only wrinkle had been reports of Starfleet Intelligence poking around Farius Prime. He hadn’t been sure how to lure her offworld, but he was delighted when the opportunity practically fell into his lap. 

He replaced the thumb-sized communicator and hurried toward the apartment door. As he closed it, his lips curled into a smile.

***

“He’ll be back any minute.” Kathryn whispered in the direction of her left earring. “Talk fast.”

The commbadge was hidden in the triangle affixed to her earlobe. The voice from it obliged her order. “Just confirming, Admiral, the ‘shuttle to Bajor’ is prepped with Starfleet personnel. They’ll stun Section 31 Leader Daniel Carrabero immediately, then bring you both to the facility.”

“Are your people prepared to capture Devorak and the others at the same time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent work. See you soon. Janeway out.”

She’d been waiting more than a decade to blow the lid off Section 31. It was selfish, she knew, but using “Chakotay” to do it made the whole prospect even sweeter. With so many Section 31 officers on Farius Prime, Starfleet Intelligence hadn’t wanted to risk capturing one of their leaders on the planet, so she’d had to lure him offworld. It had been easier than expected. 

Duty first, always. 

Her onetime first officer knew that about her. 

He must have forgotten. 

How ironic. 

He jogged up to her. “Ready?” he asked. 

“Can’t wait!” She kissed his satin cheek. “This is the start of something special.”

He held her hand as they walked toward the shuttleport. “It sure is.”

“It sure is,” Kathryn echoed. She squeezed his hand as a grin spread across her face. 


End file.
